


Welcome to Ostagar

by Rosehip



Series: Ceilidh Tabris saves the Damn World [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair is doing his best, Gen, POV Alistair (Dragon Age), POV First Person, canon typical fantasy racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27742972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosehip/pseuds/Rosehip
Summary: Alistair had word of Duncan's new recruit, but he still didn't expect someone quite like her. But seriously, what kind of seamstress gets conscripted?
Series: Ceilidh Tabris saves the Damn World [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/796926
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Welcome to Ostagar

**Author's Note:**

> I have done my best at all times to handle the world of Thedas and its issues with appropriate sensitivity. But you know that one quartermaster at Ostagar? Yeah. He's here.

_Dear Alistair,_

_I trust that this letter finds you well. I found another recruit in Denerim, as I had hoped. We should arrive three or four days behind this messenger. My companion has never ridden a horse, so we will walk._

_The recruit's name is Ceilidh Tabris. I may have mentioned my friend Adaia. She was Ceilidh's mother, and she taught the girl the skills of a warrior. Ceilidh has demonstrated resilience in addition to fighting ability. When I first met her, I found that she prefers to try words before weapons. It happens, however, that she can overcome startling odds when pressed. I believe this blend of traits will make her an excellent Warden... if all goes well._

_But Alistair- she was very pressed, indeed. I do not wish to discuss her affairs in detail- suffice it to say that I had to invoke the Right of Conscription oncemore and that she is no longer welcome in Denerim. (There seems to be a great deal of that going around.) She has also never been outside of it or met many strangers. You and Ceilidh are close in age, and you have a kind manner. I would appreciate it if you made her feel welcome. I am optimistic that you will get along well despite your different backgrounds._

_In the meantime, please keep an eye on the other recruits in my absence. Please try to facilitate good relations with those you meet, as well. We must all unite in the face of this threat. Ferelden has little history of cooperation, but if we do not learn the habit, we cannot hope to prevail._

_I will see you soon,_

_Duncan_

I tried to be polite, I swear. It's not my fault the Revered Mother used me as a means to annoy the mages. I should have refused to carry the message; pretended to be on other important business for Cailan or something. I dunno. I had no good options. The Chantry would be annoyed with the Wardens, or the Circle would.

“I will speak to the woman,” grumbled the grumpy mage I'd irritated. “If I must. Get out of my way, fool.” This puzzled me for a moment, as I was not _in_ his way at all. But then I noticed he had stood in front of a tiny, bronze-skinned woman with long, brown hair, fading bruises across her prominent nose, and very green eyes framed by heavy brows. He shoved past her, kicking the broken cobblestones as he went. She looked as confused as I felt. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, and shrugged. Great. Now the mages would be mad at her, or she with them; and it was my fault. I didn't even know who she was. Who knew battles could be such a mess before the fighting even began?

“You know, one good thing about the blight is how it brings people together.” I said to her.

Her eyes widened, then she gave a half smile. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“It's like a party. We could all hold hands and sing a song. That would give the darkspawn something to think about.”

“You have creative ideas about battle tactics. I hope that Loghain guy is paying attention.”

I hadn't meant to say any of that aloud, and I certainly didn't expect a stranger to just run with my thoughts. “Wait,” I began. “We haven't met, have we? You're not another mage, are you?”

She furrowed her brow. “I'm carrying a sword. I wouldn't think a mage would need one?”

I laughed. “You never know, right? These mages sneak up on you.” Only after that was out of my mouth did it occur to me. She'd not been joking. She'd asked a serious question. Who wouldn't know... ah.

_Well, I'm an idiot._ I smacked my forehead. “I  _do_ know who you are. You must be Duncan's newest recruit.”

“Oh, good.” she said. “Then you must be Alistair and I'm in the right place. I'm Ceilidh.”

Thank the maker. Now I knew how to pronounce that. She'd said it as KAEleeh. I reached out to shake her hand. She stepped back out of my reach, caught herself, and came closer to return the gesture. Huh. I hadn't _thought_ she was annoyed with me, but wow. _Awkward. Moving on, then._

“Right,” I said. “ _That_ was the name. You know, it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?”

“I wouldn't know. I've seen several women soldiers around? But I handle myself better than most.”

I smiled. “I'm getting that impression. Duncan spoke well of you. We should probably be getting back to him, actually. If you've got any questions, ask away. Otherwise, lead on.”

It might seem strange that I left our course up to her, but Duncan had said to be kind and she looked like a fox about ready to bolt, to be honest.

It seemed to work, in any case. “Thanks,” she said. “I think I'll enjoy traveling with you.” She actually took a step closer as she said it.

“You will? Huh. Well that's a switch.”

We headed back in the general direction of the fire, but Ceilidh spotted something through the bustle and dashed away before I could stop her. I trotted to keep up. What else could I do?

I lost sight of her for a moment or two, but when I found her, she stood over a red haired elf woman in a yellow dress. The woman half hid behind a pillar, and worked at repairing a chainmail shirt. Or she tried to. I shuddered to imagine the poor bloke who must have been wearing _that_ when he died. The rings at shoulder and chest had been mangled, and one line of them had been completely torn away. The elf had nearly bitten through her lower lip, and blistered her fingers with the task. Not the sort of work she usually performed, I suppose.

“Excuse me, miss?” asked Ceilidh. Her manners surprised me.

“I'm sorry, I haven't time to talk,” replied the red-haired elf. “I must attend to my duties or-”

“I know,” interrupted Ceilidh. _So much for her manners._ “I ran into Pick, and I've also spoken to the Quartermaster. He's on kind of a tear about that chain shirt. Men like that... I can't let... oh, dammit! Can I help? I'm strong, and I was a seamstress, so my fingers are used to...”

Her sentence trailed off as the elf leaped to her feet and embraced her as you would a long lost relative. I did not know what to make of this. We certainly didn't have time for it. While I tried to figure out how to direct Ceilidh back to Duncan, however, the two of them sat down and the servant, whose name turned out to be Violet, directed her in a crash course on the pattern used in the shirt. She was a quick study, but still.

“Ceilidh,” I tried. She looked back at me sideways with uncalled-for wariness. “We're supposed to be getting back to Duncan so that you can prepare for the Joining. Can you guess how long this will take?”

“Not well. But you said if I had questions I could ask them. How about I ask questions and I will help as long as I have important questions to ask?”

I didn't have a good argument for that one, so I agreed. But before she could get started, she bounced a little and said “Oh! I know! Alistair, could you get Daveth? I bet he'd be good at this. He said he'd be by the fire.”

The request startled me. “That cutpurse Duncan conscripted?”

Ceilidh's expression closed as firmly as a book you've given up on at page fifty. Her hands on the ring she was pinching closed stilled for just a second. The braids framing her face fell forward to hide it. “You don't approve of him.”

Inwardly, at least I _hoped_ it stayed inward, I flinched. I hadn't thought about the fact that she was “no longer welcome in Denerim.” Duncan hadn't made it sound like it was her fault but maybe she _was_ some kind of criminal? I didn't understand this woman at all. Why wouldn't she meet anyone's gaze straight on? Why was repairing a piece of armor for a stranger important enough to delay her initiation? What kind of seamstress knew how to wield a sword well enough for Duncan to conscript her? Duncan wanted me to look out for her, but it seemed like any chance I had to be on good terms with her lived or died with what I said next. Which was: “I'm not sure what Duncan sees in him, but Duncan's a good judge of character, and I can trust that. The Grey Wardens take all kinds, and your life before doesn't matter. I just... wondered what made you think of him as a potential chainmail repairman.”

Good enough to keep her talking to me, evidently. “All right, I can see that. Well he'd have to have clever hands, and maybe had to repair stolen goods before fencing them? It's worth asking. Everyone else I've met today is very busy or... otherwise not free. Except Jory, maybe but I don't think we should ask him.”

She was probably right. “All right, I'll get him if it'll save time, but why does this matter so much to you?”

She smiled with a hint of bitterness. “The Quartermaster's been running all the servants into the ground. He mistook me for Violet and threatened to beat me when I didn't have the armor with me. I took it personally.”

“Why would he do that?! You don't look anything alike.”

For some reason that earned me a softer expression. “Funny, isn't it, that some people are supposed to be inferior but then have to do four times as much as anybody else. If you want guys like the Quartermaster explained, I'm the wrong person for it.”

“Fair enough. I'll be back.”

On my way back to Duncan's fire, I kept an eye out for the servants. Most of them were elves, and many held themselves stiffly. One messenger looked positively terrified, and bolted when he saw me looking. How had I not noticed this?

When I got back to Duncan, he looked at me in confusion. “Didn't the new recruit find you?”

“She did but...” and I gave him the short version of what had happened.

“Ah,” he said. “Some of us have a difficult time with the concept of Warden non-involvement. One can't forget one's roots overnight and there are worse traits than kindness. One might argue that one more armored soldier is in our best interests. Having unharmed servants to keep things running smoothly wouldn't hurt our cause.” He broke off his musing to look at me sharply. “Not that upset mages _help_ our cause, mind you.”

I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “I'm sorry. The revered Mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt, they should stick her in the army.”

Duncan crossed his arms. “She forced you to sass the mage, did she?”

“Sort of. His defenses went up the moment he saw me. A civil conversation was impossible. I did try.”

“We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, you know that.”

“I do, I apologize. I'll apologize to him directly if you think it will help.”

He sighed. “I don't imagine it would. Go ahead and take Daveth. The day is young yet.”

I found the other two recruits on the other side of the fire, arguing about a game of chess laid out on the grass.

“What?” the cutpurse asked, defensively. “Watching the board is part of the game. You snooze, you lose.”

“Such vigilance is unnecessary in my experience,” replied Jory. “If you were an honorable opponent-”

“You expect your opponents to be honorable? I hope you don't think like that on the battlefield.”

He won that one. Jory scowled but didn't have a reply.

“Daveth?” I called. “I need you for something. Or, Ceilidh does.”

He stood to join me. “Oh, does she, now? I could use her for a few things myself.”

“Daveth!” scolded Jory. “It ill behooves a gentleman to speak so of a woman, even if she is an elf.”

“It was a joke! At least I know she can take one. Besides, you're defending her _now?_ I overheard your first meeting. Smooth, Ser Knight. Real smooth.”

I picked my jaw up off the ground. How had I not figured out she was an elf? Her hair covered her ears- and most of her face, really; but human women of her build were rare to find. This conversation clarified her actions thus far. It also saved me from an awful blunder.

Daveth followed me. When we reached the women, they'd made more progress than I would have believed. They filled Daveth in on how to go about it and before long had a system.

“You know,” said Daveth. “Ser Knight's pa was a smith. He might not be a bad hand at this.”

“Was he really?” asked Ceilidh without looking up. “I wouldn't have thought he'd done real work ever, the way he talked.”

“You think I have?”

“Haven't you? You struck me as the sort who does whatever's called for.”

He laughed. “Fair enough, just most folk don't think of much I put my hands to as 'work', you know?”

“Shows what they know.”

_Oh Maker_. I pretended not to know that a great many Grey Wardens Joined to avoid dark fates, some of which were decreed by law, but it seemed I was outnumbered. On the other hand... what kind of crime did a seamstress commit who couldn't stand to see servants beaten? I might not disapprove of it.

I was curious, but I really couldn't pry. No Warden would. She'd tell us when or if she wanted to.

In the end, it didn't take them long at all to finish the repairs. I spun stories of Garahel, which the ladies in particular seemed to appreciate, and answered questions that outsiders could hear answered. Even without Violet around, I couldn't exactly tell the recruits some of what they'd most want to know, and what they couldn't know, just yet.

We all walked Violet back to the Quartermaster. He saw her first, prepared a good telling off, raised his hand... and deflated utterly when he saw us all behind her. I had had no idea, at all. But was it any wonder?

He'd change his tune out of company, I was sure. And we couldn't do anything about it. Everyone had their place, I supposed. Our job was to keep the darkspawn away from everyone- including her.

Only after we had plenty of distance between us and the Quartermaster's station did Daveth release a massive laughing fit.

“What?” asked Ceilidh, in a voice somewhere between strained and laughing, like she hoped it was something worth laughing about. I hoped so, too.

Daveth held out his hand to Ceilidh and a leather belt unfurled from his grip. “He was very distracted, for a bit there. Didn't notice me at all. I think you broke his brain.”

“You literally stole his belt?!”

“If he wants to be a complete ass, I'll help.”

“You're _good_.”

Seamstress. Right. I was so outnumbered.


End file.
